Wednesday, June 06, 2007

They'll Take Over Your Life

On my ride in to work this morning I rode by (ok, blew past) a DeTomaso Pantera. The Pantera was stuck in the fast lane, while I was enjoying every last inch of the HOV lane.

Some of you long-time readers might recall that I have a bit of a thing for Panteras. They're kind of odd cars: an italian-built monocoque chassis with a mid-mounted Ford V8, and a German (bullet-proof, or so I hear) transmission. They were only imported to the U.S. for 3 years.

For several years, I schemed and plotted and dreamed about how I was going to get my twitchy little fingers on one of these exotic, rust-prone beauties. I printed out pictures of them and used them to decorate my cube. I read about how to clean one's Pantera with clay and a spray bottle to keep it from melting into a puddle of rust. I spent hours going through die-cast models at every big-box store I went into looking for one to keep on my desk (until I found 20 of them on a bargain table at the grocery store. So THAT'S where they were.). I had dreams about driving my Pantera around.

Suffice it to say, I was a touch obsessed.

This morning, I saw the Pantera, thought "Hey, neat," and continued on my merry way without a second thought.

And why not? Motorcycles are awesome! I realize some people don't enjoy the sport, but for me riding a fast, black motorcycle is taking a giant step closer to nirvana. And a Pantera, stylish as it is, just can't beat a motorcycle when it comes to speed, handling, versatility, gas-mileage and adoring looks from the ladies. Not to mention value-for-money.

So instead of being jealous of the presumably-mustachioed Pantera driver, I kept riding, enjoying the freedom, power and grace of my sweet, sweet motorcycle.